Can't Stop Loving You
by KittyLikesToScratch
Summary: Addek one-shots.
1. Can't Stop Loving You

Alright, so... my muse has apparently taken a vacation. So instead of updating "Who Says You Can't Go Home," I wrote this instead. Because Kendel said I had to write something, and she was rather persistent about it. So Kendel, here ya go!

The title comes from a Keith Urban song, if anyone is interested.

Read.

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**Can't Stop Loving You**

The sun was sinking lower on the horizon, creating a beautiful sunset that was a rarity in Seattle. It was almost as if nature was aware that this was her last night in the city and was trying to make up for the terrible rainy weather it had made her suffer through over the past year or so.

Addison stared out the window of her office at Seattle Grace, thinking about how the next sunset she would see would be off the coast of California. That thought made her scared and excited all at once. While she knew she didn't really have a place in Seattle anymore, she was still terrified to start all over again in a new place. She had gotten used to her routine here, and even though she hated the weather and had been living in a hotel for the better part of three months, she was still nostalgic about leaving. It had been a rough year spent here, but despite all that had happened, she was going to miss everyone.

Well, _almost_ everyone. She was more than ready to get far, far away from Alex Karev. What the hell had she been thinking? Ever since that night that he had blatantly told her that she was not his girlfriend, she had been kicking herself for ever thinking that he could actually be in a real relationship. That was a big, stupid mistake on her part… just another to add to the list of stupid things she had done lately and wished she could take back. A list which already included her 60-day no-sex pact with Mark. Seeing Derek with Meredith that evening after everything that had gone on earlier day had made her so emotionally exhausted that she hadn't been thinking straight. She never actually wanted to give a real relationship with Mark a try. She just hated to throw away that much history. Again.

No matter how hard or how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she was still totally and completely in love with Derek. She hated the part of herself that couldn't get over him and move on. The part that still reached out for him in the middle of the night, despite the fact that they hadn't slept in the same bed in months. She missed him talking in his sleep and waking her up. She missed getting ready for work together. She just missed… him.

She sighed and turned back to the paperwork that she had to finish up before she left. She only had a few notes left on this patient and some other papers to sign off on, and then she'd be out of here for good.

As she was signing her name at the bottom of the patient's chart, there was a knock at her office door.

"Come in," she called.

The door slowly opened, and Derek stuck his head in.

"Hey."

"Hey," she replied, surprised to see him there.

"Wow… your office is… empty."

"Well, I'm leaving in the morning. Didn't want to leave all the packing until tonight."

"Makes sense," he said. He paced around slowly in front of her desk as she watched him curiously.

"Do you need something, Derek?"

"Oh, um… no. Not really. I just wanted to come by and wish you good luck before you left." He paused. "So… you're really leaving?"

"Yeah, I'm really leaving. My plane takes off at 8:00 tomorrow morning."

"Oh," he said, and she thought she could detect the tiniest bit of disappointment in his voice. He sat down in the chair across from her desk. "It's just… well… I never thought of what it would be like without you here. As much as you think I want you gone… it's not going to be the same without you."

"I suppose I'm going to miss it here, too… but I have no reason to stay anymore. And Naomi offered me a great job in L.A. I can pick my own hours and not have to wonder if I'm going to be able to sleep through the night without this damn pager going off. Plus, it's sunny there. A lot." she said with a tiny smile. _And I won't have to see you and Meredith Grey all the time and feel sick to my stomach_, she added silently to herself.

"Sounds like a good deal," Derek said quietly. "Well, I guess I better go, then, and let you finish your work so you can go."

"Yeah…"

"Good luck, Addie," he said as he came around the other side of the desk to hug her.

"Thanks," she replied, forcing herself to hold back the tears that were threatening to come.

"Call someone when you get there, okay? Just so we all know you made it alright."

"I will," she promised. "Bye, Derek"

"Goodbye, Addison," he said as he pulled the door closed behind him.

Addison sank down into her chair and let the tears flow freely now. She almost wished he hadn't come because now it felt about ten times harder to get on that plane in the morning. _You have to go, Addie_, she told herself_. You have to start over. There's nothing left for you here._

On the other side of the door, unbeknownst to Addison, Derek was still there, thinking about how much he didn't want her to leave. He almost went back inside her office three times, but stopped himself from doing so each time he reached for the handle. She was moving on, and he had to accept that.

As he turned to walk away, he whispered quietly, "I love you, Addison."

- - - - - - - - - -

It was 6:28 a.m. when Addison's taxi pulled up to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport the next morning. She paid the driver as he pulled her luggage from the trunk and slammed it closed before driving quickly away. She stood for a moment outside the door, looking around and taking one last look at the city before going inside. _This is it,_ she thought nervously.

- - - - - - - - - -

Derek pressed his foot on the pedal harder as he raced toward the airport. He had spent the whole night thinking about Addison and how much he didn't want her to leave. Somewhere around 5:30 this morning, he had come to the painfully clear realization that he was still in love with her and that he always would be. He had to stop her from leaving. And he needed help.

He quickly dialed Callie's phone number, receiving a less-than-warm welcome on the other end. After a lot of begging and pleading, he had finally gotten her to give him Addison's gate and flight number. He had quickly showered and changed into some clothes that he hadn't been wearing for the past 32 hours, then grabbed his keys and headed for the airport. He just hoped he wouldn't be too late.

He reached the airport parking lot after what seemed like days, and he ran inside as fast as he could. He scanned the lobby areas and other places that she might be before he decided that she must have already gone through security. _Damn_, he thought. There was only one way of getting to her now, so he sprinted up to the ticket counter as fast as he could.

"I need a ticket!" he exclaimed.

"Good morning!" an overly chipper woman greeted him.

"Yeah, hi. I need a ticket."

"And where might you like a ticket to?"

"Anywhere, I don't care! Whatever is cheapest."

"There's no need to shout. Just a moment, please." She punched in some numbers in the computer. "How about Portland? It's quite pleasant there this time of year."

"Fantastic," he replied with little enthusiasm.

A few minutes later, ticket in hand, he sprinted toward the line to get through security. _Come on, come on..._ he pleaded silently. The line was moving so slowly. If he didn't get through soon, it was going to be too late.

_"Delta Airlines flight 1429 to Los Angeles, California will begin boarding from Gate C3 in approximately five minutes." _

A few minutes later, Derek had finally gotten through security. All he had to do now was find gate C3. He saw a sign and ran as quickly as he could.

He saw her standing in line, ready to board the plane.

"Addison!"

She stopped dead in her tracks without turning around.

"Addison!" he called out again.

She turned around in line as Derek began making his way toward her. She excused herself and stepped out of line.

"Derek, what are you doing here?"

"Don't go, Addie. Please."

"What are you talking about, Derek? Did you hit your head?"

"I've been up all night. I couldn't sleep thinking about you and how you're leaving and how I'm not going to be able to see you and talk to you every day, and I can't stand the thought of that. Please don't go. I love you. I'm so in love with you. I know I screwed up, and I know I should have realized this sooner, but I'm telling you now. I love you. Please don't get on the plane."

"I—I have to go, Derek."

"No, you don't."

"Yeah, I do…"

"No," he pleaded, grabbing her hand. "You don't."

"Yes, I do. Naomi and Sam are waiting for me in Los Angeles. I can't do this right now."

She pulled away from him as she quickly handed her ticket to the gate attendant and boarded the plane.

Derek just stood there dumbfounded. He had known that this was a possibility, but he wanted more than anything for Addison to say that she still loved him, too, and to come home with him.

He walked away, heartbroken and defeated, wishing he had never let her go. If he had just realized all that he would have been giving up, he never would have thrown his marriage away. All he wanted to do now was to go home and sleep the next month or so of his life away.

He never quite made it to his car. Somewhere between Gate C3 and the security checkpoint, he collapsed onto one of the chairs in the waiting area. The minutes passed as he just sat there, watching people come and go and wondering what to do next.

Eventually, he managed to pull himself up off the chair, and he headed in the direction of the exit.

"Derek!"

He stopped in his tracks and whirled around so fast he almost made himself dizzy. He almost didn't believe what he was seeing – Addison was hurrying toward him. He caught her as she ran into his arms and hugged her as tightly as he could.

"I love you, too," she told him. "I never stopped."

"You don't know how happy you just made me. I'm not letting you go again. Ever."

She pulled back and looked him straight in the eye. "Good. Because this is where I want to be. No more messing around, okay? I don't want to screw this up again."

"Me either. We're done being stupid and selfish. It's you and me, alright? This is it."

"This is it," she echoed happily.

He quickly pulled her toward him and kissed her deeply. Pulling back a few moments later, both Addison and Derek were smiling. She held out her hand to him, and he gladly laced his fingers through hers.

"Let's go home."

* * *

Yes, that was happy and cheesy and cliche... and I don't care. I need happy Addek. 

Okay, so this is just a one-shot -- I'm not going to continue it. HOWEVER... I may post more one-shots here in the future, so you might want to add this to your favorites if you're interested in reading them.

Now review.


	2. I Hate Everything

I still can't find the energy to update my other story. So I wrote another one-shot. I heard the song on the radio today, and even though it tends to generally annoy me, I decided I could make an Addek story out of it. And I also needed a break from the two huge papers I have to write.

I promise this isn't as depressing as the title makes it sound.

* * *

**I Hate Everything**

It had been a long day. Quite possibly the longest day in the history of the world, complete with three crazy interns, two grueling surgeries, and one exhausting wife. All Derek Shepherd wanted to do was sleep, possibly for the rest of his life. And if that wasn't an option, he wanted at least six solid hours of blissful, uninterrupted slumber.

Unfortunately, a good night's sleep entailed going home. And at home, there was Addison. And dealing with Addison was not conducive to a peaceful siesta. So instead, Derek chose to go to Joe's, grab a drink, and relax for a while before embracing the madness that was Addison and their marriage.

Their _marriage_. It barely qualified as a marriage anymore. Yes, he chose her, and yes, they were living together again. But all they were really doing was coexisting. He hadn't forgiven her by any means. What she had done was inexcusable, and she had hurt him more deeply than anyone else ever could. But even so, he couldn't just give up on his marriage. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

He made his way over to the bar and sat down with a deep sigh. Joe looked at him sympathetically.

"Rough day?" he asked.

Derek nodded. "You could say that."

"The usual?"

"Please."

Joe brought him his drink a few minutes later. Derek took a sip and set his glass down on the counter, absently staring into it.

Addison.

She was the only woman he had ever loved. On their wedding day, he had felt like the luckiest man in the world. But now, almost twelve years later, he couldn't even manage to tell her that he loved her because he wasn't even sure of it himself.

He knew he would always love her on some level, but was he still _in love_ with her? He didn't know. And neither did she. He could tell how alone she felt by the way she looked at him and the way she cried at night after she thought he was asleep. He hated that he sometimes got pleasure from her pain, as if he thought that making her feel this way somehow made them even. It was stupid, and he knew it, yet he couldn't make himself stop. He used to have the overwhelming urge to punch anyone and everyone who made Addison cry, and now he was the one causing her tears. How ironic was that?

He took another swig of his drink as a man he didn't know sat down beside him. Derek looked over and acknowledged the man with a nod of his head before looking back down at his glass and swirling his drink around.

He heard the man order two shots of tequila, and a few moments later, Derek watched as the man quickly threw back both shots and motioned to Joe for another round.

After throwing back the third and fourth shots, the man finally noticed Derek staring at him. He pushed the shot glasses away from him and turned slightly to face Derek.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I actually _hate_ tequila?"

Derek chuckled. "No, I wouldn't."

"Well, I do. And I kinda hate this bar, too. It's a weird place… like everyone here knows everybody else's business. I don't like that."

"Oh," Derek replied, slightly confused, and took another drink, trying to turn away from the crazy stranger who he had somehow led to believe that he wanted to have a conversation.

"You know what," the man continued, obliviously, "now that I think of it… I hate pretty much everything right now."

"Hmmm…" Derek mumbled, not sure of how to respond to the man.

"Scott Graham," the man introduced himself as he stuck out his hand.

Derek gripped the man's hand and shook it politely. "Derek Shepherd."

Scott pushed his empty glasses further away from him and reached around to pull his wallet from his back pocket. He opened it up and pulled out a few bills, and as he did, a faded piece of paper fell out and fluttered to the ground.

"I got it," Derek said as he reached down to pick it up. He glanced quickly at the faded picture before handing it back to Scott.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Scott stared at the picture quietly with a look of contempt covering his face. "This is all _her_ fault," he finally said.

"Excuse me?" Derek stammered.

"This. Me being here. Drinking. Feeling miserable _all the time_. It's her fault. It's _all_ _her fault_."

Derek just stared at Scott in astonishment, wondering if the man had somehow managed to pull a page out of the book of his life.

Scott continued his rant. "This _woman_… she's my _ex_-wife. I thought we had it all, you know. The perfect house, perfect marriage, two great kids… turns out it wasn't so _perfect_ after all. And if it weren't for those two kids, I'd absolutely hate her. She's made my life miserable. I lost my job after the divorce. I live in a one-bedroom apartment that feels like a jail cell. I don't get to see my kids every day. I hate it. I hate it all." He slammed his fist down on the bar, then turned to Derek. "You married?"

Derek hesitated. "Uh… yeah. I am."

"Then I'm sure you can understand what I'm going through. She left me for another man. A few months ago now. Wouldn't you feel this way if your wife did this to you?"

Derek's stomach jumped. This situation was eerily familiar, and Derek was thankful that this seemed to be a rhetorical question. He was pretty sure that the man didn't want to hear that he was in a very similar situation and that he was giving his wife another chance. Especially when Derek couldn't really justify his reasons for doing so other than by simply saying that Addison was his wife.

Scott didn't seem to notice Derek's hesitation. "I just can't get over the fact that she left me for _him_," he said, shaking his head. "I gave her _everything_ she ever wanted. I had a great job and worked long hours to provide for _her_ and the kids. And then she just up and leaves me. And takes my kids away on top of that."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Derek said quietly.

"Bartender!" Scott yelled, seemingly ignoring Derek. "I'll have what he's having," he pointed to Derek as Joe approached them.

Scott began twirling his wedding ring around on his finger as he waited for his drink. Derek looked down at his own bare ring finger, thinking about everything that this man had been ranting about. It was as if all the good in his life had been sucked out of it before he knew what had hit him, leaving behind bitterness and unrelenting rage in its place.

Joe brought his drink, and Scott downed it in one swallow, sighed loudly, and said loudly, "I hate everything!"

This guy was getting on Derek's last nerve. Yes, it was terrible what the man was going through, but dealing with more problems than he already had was the last thing that Derek wanted to do tonight. He had enough of those on his own with work and with Addison.

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. This was the road that Derek was headed down. Not yet. But if he let things continue on the way they had been going lately, he would be this man before he knew it.

_I don't want to be that__ man_, Derek decided.

He didn't want to be the bitter, angry man making his home at the bar each night telling random strangers how much he hated his life. He didn't want to end up alone because he couldn't own up to his mistakes, forgive his wife, and give his marriage a real shot. He didn't want to be that man.

He wanted someone to grow old with, someone to laugh and cry with and share every moment in between with. And when he imagined himself ten, twenty, thirty years down the road, the woman he saw beside him was Addison.

Derek pulled his wallet from pocket and opened it, reaching into the corner and pulling his wedding ring from the spot it had been since he took it off the night he left New York. He quickly slipped it back onto his finger and smiled.

"Listen, it was good talking with you, but there's something else I need to do," he said to Scott. "I got your drink, though."

"Thanks, man."

"No problem," Derek replied. "And thanks. Thanks for everything."

"Uh… sure…?" Scott said, visibly puzzled, as Derek walked toward the door smiling.

Once he was outside, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and quickly punched in the familiar digits. It rang three times before she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh… hi," Addison replied quietly from the other end.

"I'm on my way home."

"Okay."

"We're going to work this out, Addie. Work _us_ out, even if it takes all night. I can't spend the rest of my life without you. We're going to get through this. Okay?" He paused. "I love you," he said resolutely.

He heard her sniffling on the other end of the phone and knew she was crying. He just hoped they were happy tears.

"Okay…"

"I mean it, Addie."

There was a long pause on the other end before she responded. "Hurry home."

"I will," he said excitedly.

"Oh, and Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

* * *

Comments? Feelings? Volunteers to write my sponsorship proposal? 


	3. Fishing

Alright, time for another one-shot. For Kendel, who once again asked/demanded that I write something.

**Rating: M.**

* * *

"No," Addison stated vehemently.

Derek crossed his arms and sighed. "Come on. You haven't even tried it. You might like it."

"No."

"Fine," he shrugged as he grabbed his fishing pole and tackle box and put them into the boat tied up at the dock. "I'll be back sometime."

He jumped into the boat and started the engine as Addison continued standing on the dock with her arms crossed watching him. He pulled his hat on his head and tipped the bill to her as he pulled away from the dock.

"Wait!" she cried out. "I'm coming."

XXXXXXXXXX

"This isn't fair," Addison complained as Derek pulled in his sixth fish of the day. "I haven't caught anything."

Derek grinned as he pulled the hook out of the fish's mouth and tossed it in the bucket beside him with the other five. "The fish can sense your bad attitude," he joked.

She glared at him and set her pole against the side of the boat, laying down and attempting to stretch out on the small bench seat at the back. It wasn't working. Derek stood at the front, baiting his hook and watching her frustration.

"Well, you're not going to catch anything like that," he told her.

"I don't care," she replied bitterly. "I didn't even want to come in the first place."

"Then why did you?"

"Because," she exclaimed, "I wanted to spend time with you, you idiot. Even if it means I have to partake in this God-awful activity. I'm your wife, despite how hard you try to forget that minor detail"

He threw down his pole. "Excuse me?" he raised his voice. "I remember just fine. If you recall, _I'm_ not the one who jumped into bed with someone else."

"Meredith Grey," she spat, as though those two words left a sour taste in her mouth.

"That was after _you_ had already decided to throw our marriage away."

She sat up, her face getting redder the angrier she got. "This is always going to be my fault, isn't it? You're never going to take your share of responsibility for what this marriage has become."

"I wasn't the one who hopped into bed with Mark," he said angrily.

"Did you ever stop to think about _why_ I did it? How desperate I must have been to do something like that? No, you didn't. Because all you care about is Derek. Do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep because you would rather sleep in an on-call room instead of coming home to me? Or when you forgot our anniversary? Twice. No. Because in your world, it's all about Derek. Addison takes a second place to the interests of Derek."

"And you thought that fucking Mark would be the best way to tell me that you were unhappy? Wow, Addison… great thinking."

"God, Derek, you just don't get it!" she yelled, her face just mere inches away from his. "I wasn't even thinking by that point. He was just there, and he was the closest thing I had to _you_. The whole time, _you_ were the one I was thinking of. I've never wanted anyone else besides _you_."

He stared into her eyes for a moment before pulling her roughly toward him and kissing her hard on the mouth. Her arms automatically wrapped around his neck, and she pulled the hat off his had to run her hands through his thick, dark hair. His tongue slipped past her lips and into her mouth, dueling with hers.

He slowly lowered them to the floor of the boat as his hand slid under her shirt and over her sides and stomach. She reached down to the hem of his shirt and quickly pulled it over his head, tossing it aside. He did the same with hers and then moved his lips to her neck, kissing softly below her jaw line. His hands moved to her breasts, and she let out a soft moan, encouraging him to continue.

Addison moved to the waistband of his jeans and found the button in front, undoing it and pushing the zipper down in order to push the jeans off his hips. Derek quickly kicked off his shoes, and she pushed the jeans further down his hips and thighs, and he removed them as well.

She grabbed his face and pulled it back to hers, locking their lips as he undid the clasp on her bra, freeing her breasts and rubbing his thumb across her nipple. She moaned, urging him to move faster, but he ignored her pleas. He continued caressing her breasts for a moment before moving down and removing her jeans and panties and discarding them with the rest of their clothing.

She ran her hands up and down his bare chest before slipping them teasingly under the waistband of his boxers. He continued kissing her as he pushed her hand away and quickly removed his boxers. She giggled softly at his impatience as he threw them aside and returned his hands to her body. Keeping one hand on her breast, he moved the other down toward her inner thigh, stroking her softly as he moved upward.

She moaned as he slid two fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out slowly at first and then faster as she began to whimper softly. He silenced her with his lips, trapping her bottom lip between his and running his tongue along it. He felt her muscles tightening around him and she soon came. She collapsed beneath him, and he pulled back slightly, admiring her in the bright sunshine. She smiled seductively before aligning her hips with his and wrapping her arms around him, pulling him as close as she could. She spread her legs, and he slowly slid inside her.

He let his tongue explore her mouth as she rested her hands on his hips, guiding him closer to her. He reached for one of her hands and laced their fingers together as he began moving in and out of her slowly. She moaned and whispered, "Faster."

She felt him grow harder inside of her, and she buried her head in the crook of his neck as he increased the pace. Addison wrapped her legs around his waist as he continued to thrust into her, and her breathing became erratic. Her hips rose to meet his as he pushed into her, and she dug her nails into his shoulder when he cried out her name as they both came.

He lay on top of her, looking into her eyes and smoothing the hair away from her face. She looked back at him and smiled before kissing him softly.

"Maybe fishing isn't so bad."


	4. Good in My Shirt

Kendel is a big fat whiner, so you get a one-shot. And if I read between the lines correctly, it also appears that I have free reign on the ending of "Be Be Your Love" now. Oh, the fun we'll have....

Here's another one-shot inspired by the song "Good in my Shirt" by Keith Urban.

* * *

**You Look Good In My Shirt**

You breeze through the doors of St. Ambrose Hospital, more than a little annoyed about the fact that you are there and not at home in bed where you should still be at this hour of the day. Charlotte King is not your favorite person on a normal day, but when that yappy little blonde thing who isn't even your boss makes you come in on a _Saturday_ _morning_ to a hospital where you are technically _not_ an employee, your dislike for her grows exponentially.

You round the corner where you see Charlotte standing at the nurses' station talking to a couple of her attending physicians. You groan, realizing now that, unfortunately, this is not simply just a bad dream like you were hoping. Sighing heavily, you march over to her.

"Alright," you said as unpleasantly as you can. You slam your purse down on the counter for effect. "I'm here. Let's do this."

"And good mornin', to you, too, Dr. Montgomery," Charlotte says in her southern drawl, clearly pleased that she has managed to irritate one of the Oceanside Six. You _really_ don't like her right now. "Follow me."

Four hours later, you finally emerge from surgery. Your "one hour max" consult managed to turn into something more difficult than you anticipated (and something which you're now convinced that Charlotte knew about when she woke you up before the sun this morning), and you were forced to perform an emergency surgery in order to save both the mother and the baby. Luckily, though, you are still at the top of your game, regardless of the fact that you rarely set foot in an OR anymore, and everything had turned out well; both mother and daughter were now resting comfortably. And even though you pretend to be upset that your Saturday morning is now effectively gone, it had been an adrenaline rush that you rarely experience since having moved to Los Angeles. You had started to forget how exhilarating being in an OR and doing surgery really was, and for a split second, you wondered why you would ever leave something you loved so much. It was exciting. Not that you would ever admit that to Charlotte King, though.

You fling your purse onto your shoulder as you march through the hall with a satisfied smile plastered on your face, determined to go home and enjoy what was left of your day by lounging on the beach.

As you walk past the second floor waiting room, though, you stop and do a double-take. That can't possibly be who you think it is… can it?

He turns slightly to the side, and it becomes clear that you are not hallucinating.

"Well. I'll be damned…" you mutter to yourself, smiling in spite of what you are seeing. It had been over a year, after all. And as they old saying goes, time heals all wounds. Okay, well, it helps them mend, at the very least.

You approach him from behind and put a hand on his shoulder, bending down and whispering in a low, sultry voice, "Guess who?"

He turns to face you.

"Addison. What are you doing here?" your ex-husband asks you, although from the expression on his face, it doesn't seem as if he is the least bit surprised to see you standing in front of him.

"I think it's my turn to ask _you_ that question," you shoot back playfully, recalling that he used those same words when you showed up unexpectedly in Seattle so long ago. That Derek was definitely a contrast from the Derek sitting in front of you at this moment. "I'm the one who lives here."

"So I hear. The big-shot neonatal surgeon moves to LA to pursue a career in a private practice. Not the kind of thing that happens a lot."

"I happen to love it there," you reply confidently.

"Addison, please," he scoffs. "I know you. You can't possibly tell me that you don't miss all of this." He waves his hands around, gesturing at the hospital.

"I still do surgeries," you defend yourself. He doesn't need to know that it's a rare occurrence. "Just finished one, actually." He smiles genuinely at the proud look displayed on your face, and you try to calm the butterflies in your stomach that you haven't felt since before your divorce, before Seattle, before your entire life altered its course. "Anyway," you change the subject, "you never told me what you're doing here."

"Consult," he tells you simply. He doesn't offer you anymore information, and it doesn't occur to you to ask.

"Well… I have a few things I need to do, but… how long are you here?" you ask as casually as you can. "We should get together later with Naomi and Sam."

He nods in agreement. "Can I call you after I'm through here?"

"Of course," you say, reaching into your purse. "Here's my new cell number." You hand him a business card.

"Great. I'll call you later, then."

"Good." You smile as he stands up to kiss you on the cheek.

"It's _really_ good to see you, Addie."

XXXXXXX

You pace nervously in your living room, intentionally passing by the mirror on the wall, but only glancing at yourself discretely, as if trying to fool yourself into believing that you don't really care how you look right now. Really, though, why should you care? After all, he's your _ex_-husband. He divorced you. You don't have to impress him.

But then again… he's your ex-husband. The love of your life. You've tried to move on, telling yourself that you aren't in love with him anymore and that you can live the rest of your life with someone else and be perfectly happy and content not giving Derek Shepherd another thought. Except that you've been trying that for a year now, and it hasn't been working out so well for you.

He looked good when you saw him earlier. You don't know why you're surprised about that. He's always looked good. Maybe because it seems like it has been so many years since you have seen him smile at you that way. Like he was genuinely happy to see you.

You jump when you hear the doorbell, having been lost in your own thoughts. You half-walk and half-run to answer it, not wanting to seem too anxious.

"Hey, there," you greet him.

"Hi," he steps forward and kisses your cheek again and then hands you a small bouquet of flowers. Lilies, not roses. Roses are too cliché, he once said, and he has never bought them for you at any point in your relationship. "You look great."

You feel your cheeks blush. "Thank you."

"Are Sam and Nae meeting us here or at the restaurant?"

"Oh" you play dumb. "I guess I forgot to tell you – they couldn't make it tonight. It's just you and me." You conveniently leave out the part where you chose not to mention Derek's visit to Naomi when she called you earlier. You still aren't completely sure why you did that.

"That's too bad. Would've been good to see them," he says, though you think you can detect a hint of excitement in his voice that it's just going to be the two of you. "Should we get going?"

You reach over beside him and pick up your purse, purposely brushing against his arm. "Yeah, let's go." He opens the door for you, and you know he is staring at your ass as you walk out in front of him.

You've still got it.

XXXXXXX

"That is _so_ not true," you laugh as you defend yourself. You walk next to him as the two of you stroll leisurely down the boardwalk after dinner. "I never said that!"

"You most definitely did," he insists.

"When?" you demand to know.

"At one of Weiss and Savvy's Christmas parties."

You brush him off with a wave of your hand. "That doesn't count then. I cannot be held responsible for anything I say after four glasses of that eggnog they always have."

"You're just lucky my mother never found out," he laughed. "You wouldn't be her favorite anymore if she did."

"Awww, I'm still her favorite?" you ask, touched that your ex-mother-in-law still thought so highly of you. You haven't talked to her since you left Seattle and make a mental note to call her tomorrow.

"Of course you are," he smiles at you, tilting his head slightly to the side.

You smile back, genuinely enjoying spending time with him without all of the baggage and guilt of your past weighing on your shoulders. The possibility of what could have been one of the most awkward nights of your life was something you were worried about earlier but was now the farthest thing from your mind. "I'm really glad I ran into you today," you admit.

"Me, too," he agrees. The two of you stroll along in amicable silence a while before he speaks again. "So… about the topic we've both been avoiding for the past three hours…" He tilts his head to the side and looks at you.

So much for avoiding awkwardness.

"Ah, yes… that… guess we have to get it over with at some point."

"I suppose."

You take a deep breath before asking, "Me first?"

He nods and slips his hands in his pocket, looking at the ground as he matches you step for step.

Better to just blurt it out, you think to yourself. So you do. "I'm not seeing anyone."

You wince. You really didn't want to admit this to him, which is why you had been avoiding the subject like the plague all night. You hated the fact that you couldn't move on because you were looking for the man standing next to you in every relationship you've been in since then. And every time you catch yourself doing it, you feel ridiculous because you to continue to want something that you know you'll never have again. Which is why you are so surprised to hear what comes out of his mouth next.

"Neither am I."

You stop walking and stare at him a few paces in front of you, unaware that you aren't moving anymore.

"What?" you ask, positive that you have heard him wrong. After the lengths he had gone to in order to be with his precious intern, they weren't together anymore? The universe clearly has it out for you and apparently finds some sort of sick joy in making you feel as small and insignificant as possible whenever it sees a viable opportunity. It was one thing to be left for another woman; it was another thing completely when the man who left you wasn't even with said woman anymore. At least if he were still with her, he would have given up his marriage for a reason. But now…? What did that make you? Just a 15-year blip in his life? Something that mattered little enough to throw away on a fling?

He finally looks at you and nods.

You want to ask the inevitable question, so much so that you have to bite your lip to keep from blurting it out angrily. You worry about bringing up what is still a touchy subject between the two of you, despite the time and distance you've tried to put between it. He looks at you, knowing what you want to ask, and the gentle look on his face makes you think it might be okay. So you give it a whirl.

"What happened with…?"

You trail off at the end. You don't like to say her name if you can help it, even though you know it's irrational and pathetic and that after a year, it really shouldn't be a problem anymore. But it is, and as a general rule, you do not mention her if at all possible. It makes life easier somehow.

He shrugs and you can tell that he is trying to figure out a way to explain his actions over the past couple years to you. The words aren't coming easily to him. You begin to wonder if he can even explain it to himself.

"I couldn't make it work," he finally tells you. You raise an eyebrow, letting him know nonverbally that you're going to need more information than that. "At first, I thought I was asking too much from her, ya know? I knew that she had problems with commitment, but I just thought if I could prove to her that it would be different this time, then she would come around, and everything would be okay. But she never did, and it never was. And I'm not even sure anymore if the problem was with her. Because now… now I think I was trying to make her into something else. Something that she could never be."

He looks at you, and you automatically know from the expression on his face where he is headed with this ridiculously cheesy, romantic comedy movie speech that he probably practiced on the way down here. You know, yet you don't really believe it.

"Don't even finish that thought, Derek," you say definitively, though not angrily. Because even though it's been over a year since you've _really_ talked to him, you are reluctant to anger him and risk the possibility of severing whatever ties you have left to the man who you spent a third of your life with.

"It's true, though," he says quietly, yet audibly loud enough for you to hear and feel the sincerity of his words.

"It was a long time ago," you say sadly, not meaning to reveal your feelings as much as you are afraid you just did. "We've both moved on."

"Why aren't you seeing anyone then, Addie?" he counters.

You are taken aback. You weren't expecting that. You mount your defense. "Because I've wasted too much of the last few years on the wrong men. I want someone who's worth the effort. Did you ever think that maybe I haven't found anyone I want to spend my time with? I work all damn day, and I don't see the point in wasting what free time I have fooling around with men who aren't interested in anything except one good night."

"Or maybe you've been looking for the same thing that I have."

Now you're just getting pissed off. Forget pleasantries; you want to yell at him. How dare he do this to you now? _He_ is the one who wanted the divorce. _You_ are the one who had to put the state of Oregon between the two of you in order to go back to functioning on a basic human level. What gives him the right to show up whenever he damn well pleases and say these things to you?

Before you can yell and scream and rant, however, his lips are on yours, and you not only find yourself _not_ fighting it, but soon enough you are wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and parting your lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside. You begin to realize that maybe, just maybe, he was right about you.

Oh, who are you kidding? He was right on the money.

Fifteen minutes later, you are fumbling with your keys and trying to unlock your front door as Derek has his hands wrapped tightly around your waist, alternating between kissing your neck and sucking on your earlobe, which is definitely not helping your concentration whatsoever.

You finally get the key to turn in the lock, and he hurries you inside, slamming the door behind him. He quickly spins you around and presses his lips back on yours, holding you firmly but gently by your hips. You kiss him back aggressively, pushing your tongue into his mouth while your brain is telling you to slow down and think. He pulls you closer as his hands trail up and down your back.

"This… is… a bad… idea…" you manage to murmur in between kisses. Because it was. It was quite possibly the worst idea you've had since you decided to jump into bed with Mark. Now you're digging up the past – all the mistakes, the pain, the hurt, and the heartache that has brought you to the very place you are today. This is the man who holds your heart in the palm of his hand, and you know perfectly well that he always will. He has the power to destroy you, which he almost did once already. And you promised yourself that you wouldn't go down that road again. It hurt too much to go through it again. You know you are treading in dangerous water, and soon the sharks will begin to circle.

"It's not the worst one we've ever had," he responds quickly before placing a hand on the back of your head and pulling your lips back to his. He sounds so sure of himself.

For a second you wonder how the hell he can be so sure of this when you can't stop questioning _everything_, from your actions in this very moment to the reason he is _really_ here. But then your brain stops thinking and lets your heart take over, and you realize why he is so sure. It just _feels_ right. It always has. And with Derek, you think to yourself, it always will.

You take a small step backward and rest your forehead against his. Your close your eyes, and you can hear him breathing just as heavily as you are. Your hands hang at your sides, your fingers laced loosely with his. You know he is waiting for you to make the next move.

Letting go of his hands, you lift your head and meet his eyes. He stares back at you for almost a full minute before you trail your hands slowly up his abdomen to the collar of his shirt and slowly start undoing the buttons.

"Addison," he whispers gently. "We don't have to…"

You silence him by kissing him softly but deliberately, and he willingly follows you as you walk backward to the bedroom.

XXXXXXX

You awake early the next morning as the sun is just beginning to shine through your window. As your eyes flutter open, you have a silly grin plastered on your face. That is, until the previous night comes flooding back to you. And inevitably, the self-loathing begins when you realize who you are curled up next to.

You slip out from under the arm that is draped protectively across your waist and grab the nearest piece of clothing you can find – his shirt. Buttoning it quickly, you tip-toe out of the room and into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, hoping the welcome rush of caffeine will help you clear your head and figure out what the hell you were thinking when you jumped into bed with your ex-husband.

Everything that felt so right just hours ago now doesn't seem so clear. You told yourself after the intern that you were going to make _good_ decisions and that you wouldn't rush into things simply based on feeling alone. And that's exactly what you did last night. But then again, that's also what you did by moving down here. You felt trapped, like you couldn't breathe or think or move forward if you stayed in Seattle, so you left. And when Derek kissed you and touched you last night, you did it again.

But underneath the doubt and insecurities that last night brought, there is a little part of you that doesn't regret it. Not even a little bit. You can't decide if this is something that should scare you or not, so you choose to suppress the feeling until it becomes absolutely necessary to deal with it; avoidance has always been your strong suit.

After pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you walk back to the bedroom. Derek is still sleeping, and you curl up in the chair in the corner, watching him breathe rhythmically in and out. The scene in front of you looks eerily familiar from many years past, and you can't help but play the "what if" game in your head. What if you hadn't worked so much? What if you had insisted harder on Derek cutting back his hours? What if you had simply _talked_ to your husband instead of being so damn passive aggressive? What if you hadn't slept with Mark? What if you never moved to California?

You are brought back to reality when Derek starts to stir, and you are grateful because the last thing you need right now is to drive yourself completely crazy with these thoughts like you've done so many times before.

"Hey," he mumbles, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He smiles over at you as he leans back against the pillows.

"Hi," you answer meekly, not moving from your defensive position safely across the room.

Neither of you say anything but instead stare at each other until you begin to feel self-conscious and suddenly find your coffee cup to be very interesting.

"Addison," he says from across the room. You don't look up, so he tries again, firmer this time. "Addison."

"Hmmm?"

"Come here," he pats the empty spot next to him that you vacated fifteen minutes earlier.

You reluctantly pull yourself of the chair as slowly as possible. You stand next to the bed, holding your coffee mug with both hands and looking down at him with your eyebrows raised as if to say, "Well, what now?"

"Sit," he commands.

You let out a barely audible sigh as you set the coffee mug on the nightstand and flop back onto the bed in a less-than-graceful manner. He throws his arms across your waist and pulls you closer to him. You cross your arms over your chest defensively as he kisses your neck.

"You're thinking too much."

"One of us should," you reply softly.

"Addie," he says gently, stroking your arm. "This isn't a bad thing."

"It's not good," you retort.

He doesn't say anything, but he is still stroking your arm while the thoughts continue to turn over and over in your mind.

"Why are you really here, Derek?"

"Well, you seemed rather insistent on bringing me home last night."

"No," you are frustrated. "Not _here_. Here! Down here. Instead of up there where you belong." You illustrate with hand motions, pointing up and down at the appropriate times.

"I don't know," he admits. "I don't know. I guess I just… I miss you."

"Derek…"

"No, just listen. Please. I _really_ miss you. Sometimes at work, I swear I hear your voice down the hall. I know it's crazy, but I've even gone looking for you a couple times before I realized that you wouldn't be there. I can't concentrate when I think about you. One of my patients was wearing your perfume the other day, and I had to excuse myself in the middle of her consult. You're everywhere, even when you're not actually there."

You don't respond because you don't know what to say. How can you really respond to that when you're not even sure if you believe it? Then he speaks again before you can even think of something remotely meaningful to say.

"Can you honestly tell me, especially after last night, that you don't feel _anything _anymore?"

No, you can't. Because you know you miss him. And if you were completely honest with yourself, you know you still love him, too, and you always will. So you give in and just answer honestly.

"No." You lay your head back against the pillow and stare up at the ceiling. "But that's not enough, Derek."

"It might be."

"It wasn't before," you point out. "It wasn't enough to keep our marriage together. Why do you think it's going to be any different now?"

He hesitates before he answers nervously. "I don't know," he admits.

You continue your rant. "And say, _hypothetically_, that we give this another go. For starters, I live here, and you live there. I don't know about you, but kind of feel like that might be an issue. What then?"

"I don't know."

"And what happens when we never see each other because we're both obsessive workaholics with insane schedules that never mesh?"

"I don't know."

"And what about…"

"Addison!" he cuts you off. "I. Don't. Know."

You are really frustrated now. "Then _what_ makes you think that this is going to work? That we're going to be any happier this time than before?"

"I don't know," he repeats again. "I'm not trying to tell you that I figured this all out in the past 12 hours because I most definitely did not. I just know that I miss you and that I still love you. Right now… that's all I've got."

You stare back at him. The look in his eyes tells you everything you need to know. He loves you, and you love him. And while that may or may not be enough, you nevertheless feel a sense of calm coming over you, despite the internal conflict and doubt you still have harbored inside.

You sigh. "Okay," you whisper, feeling yourself giving in.

Derek reaches over and places his hand on the side of your face, pulling your lips to his and kissing you long and slow.

"So… what now?" you ask after pulling apart.

"Now…" he softly kisses you again. "Now we get dressed, and I'll take you out to breakfast."

"Okay," you agree as you kiss him back and climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom.

You are still torn between wanting to be happy and wondering if this is a decision that is going to destroy you all over again. But up until now, you missed Derek so much that it hurt, and since he had arrived, the pain had started to dull. You have felt more whole in the past day than you have in the past year, and it finally felt like the clouds that have been hanging above your head were finally beginning to clear. You could feel the warmth of the sunshine again, and it felt good.

And even if it was just a temporary fix, it was worth it. It was _so_ worth it.

_And maybe it's a little too early  
__To know if this is gonna work  
__All I know is you're sure looking  
__Good in my shirt_

* * *

You know what to do.


End file.
